


Roots

by Cburrow11



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Ghost Wilbur - Fandom, PhilzaMinecraft - Fandom, Technoblade - Fandom, Tommyinnnit - Fandom, Wilbur Soot - Fandom
Genre: Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Minecraft, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27800677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cburrow11/pseuds/Cburrow11
Summary: Wind.. the smell of bread.. sparring with Technoblade. These are some of the few things Ghostbur remembers from his childhood. Growing up in a meadow with his siblings, Wilbur seemingly had a wonderful childhood. But the roots of all the "sleepy bois" started in their childhood, and sometimes the roots are painful.Based on Ghostbur's "What I Remember" Sleepy Days is a Fanfiction novel that depicts the childhood of Wilbur Soot, Technoblade and Tommyinnit growing up under the wing of Philza.  The story follows the quaint lives of each "Sleepy Boi" and develops them into the character they are today.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Roots

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm aware *technically* Wilbur is supposed to be the middle child, but in this story, I went with their real life ages. I thought with the plot I developed, it would make much more sense for Wilbur to be the eldest sibling. Enjoy!
> 
> Follow my Twitter @sugarglint for updates!

The fall leaves crunched under their feet, almost matching with their quick footsteps and giggles. A wooden sword was drawn in the air, and pointed to its next victim.  
“Don’t even try to catch me,” commented a little monotone voice, struggling to catch his breath.  
“I won’t have to try, you’re too easy to get,” teased the other. He held his wooden sword pointed, ready to pierce at any moment. But he wouldn’t dare hurt the other.  
“You two better be careful! The last thing I want is an injured child.” The father cautioned from the porch of their house  
“Oh, don’t worry Dad! No one ever catches the-'' His signature phrase was cut short by a tackle to the ground, with the help from a strong autumn gust. They both fell into a heap on the ground, unable to control their laughter. Wheezing, they tried to fight back the futile attempts of pinning each other to the ground.  
“Alright! That's enough! Wilbur, Technoblade, you two better stop or you'll see from real fighting. From me!” Philza warned, stretching his joints as he rose from his chair. Both of the boys' eyes grew wide, and they quickly brushed the leaves off their jumpers and hurried over to their dad.  
Technoblade chased Wilbur through their yard, kicking up leaves and mud as he sprinted to catch him. His long pink hair was tousled from the brawl, and whipped around while he chased Wilbur. Wilbur’s square frame glasses sat crooked on his small face, and he fixed his red beanie on top of his messy pile of hair as he ran. Both boys jumped up on the porch and leaned against their dad’s rotting rocking chair.  
“Dad! Dad! Dont’cha think that was pretty good?” Exclaimed Wilbur, trying to get his dads attention  
“Sure bud, that was some great fighting!” Wilbur beamed at his dad’s compliment  
“Uhh Dad, what about me? I mean, Will did tackle me, but I'm getting better, aren't I?”  
“Yes, of course you are! And remember bud, Will is a lot older than you too! I wasn’t nearly as good of a fighter at your age. You’ll catch up to Will soon enough!” Phil winked at Techno, which elicited a small smile from him.  
“Hey, why don’t I make some dinner? I bet you two are hungry after all that brawling!” Phil said, as his stomach rumbled.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting over their house, and the October chill set in. The house, made of oak wood, was well past its days. Everytime a vigorous wind came, the house would rattle as if it were alive. The porch was sunken from countless little feet trampling on it, and the spruce floor didn't look much better. The stone roof let in droplets of water on rainy days, leaving the boys to scrounge pots to collect it. The house was in a meadow, with a lumbering oak tree outside. The tree was the lifeblood of the house. It provided shade in the summer, vibrant leaves in the fall, and nests of birds in the spring. A rotting swing hung from the biggest branch, a swing that Wilbur and Techno used when they were younger. But the most important part of the tree was the roots. They snaked underneath the house, and grounded the tree during tough winds. The tree started with the roots, and would one day end with them. The house was where Philza grew up, and he knew from a young age that it was where he would raise his own children. He hoped one day the boys would carry on the legacy of the house, and raise their own children in it.  
The boys sat at the table, and Wilbur advised Techno how he could improve his fighting. Wilbur, being twelve, and Techno only nine, he knew it was his responsibility to look after Techno, even if he sometimes didn’t enjoy it.  
“Ya know,” said Wilbur, “maybe we should ask dad about the thing,” he said as he raised his eyebrows at Techno.  
“What thing?” Techno replied, a look of confusion on his face. A spark lit in Techno’s head, as he remembered what the thing was.  
“Oh! You mean the spar-”  
“Shhhh! I’ll ask him about it later,” said Wilbur, trying to silence his little brother. “Wouldn’t want him to say no right now.”  
“Say no to what?” Phil chimed in from the kitchen.  
“Nothing!” The two boys chirped in harmony.  
“Hmmm...ok then,” replied Phil, keeping the intrigue in his voice alive.  
Phil grabbed fresh loaves of bread from the furnace, as well as pieces of cooked porkchop. The three sat at their dinner table and chattered as they ate their dinner, enjoying each other's company as their small family. Later, Phil lit a fire in the fireplace and the boys gathered around the warmth as the chill air seeped into their rickety windows. Wilbur picked up his guitar, and practiced simple songs and different chords. Techno grabbed some old birch logs used for the fire, and carved some tools out of them. Phil sat down with his favorite book, settling into the fire’s warmth after a cool day.  
“Hey Will, why don’t you play…”  
Phil’s sentence trailed off when he realized Wilbur had dropped his guitar, and instead was entranced by something else. His slender fingers, no longer plucking the strings, were set upon the fireplace. They danced above the fire, nearly lingering above the licking flames, inches away from a burn to the hand. His eyes, lit the like fire itself, had become glazed over. He seemed to be in a trance, unable to be released from the grips of the flames.  
“Will?” Phil intrigued, trying to catch his attention away from the fire  
Techno looked up for a second, then went back to his craftsmanship, for this wasn’t an unusual occurrence.  
“Wilbur!”  
Wilbur quickly looked up, confused as to why his dad was calling his name so forcefully.  
“Yeah?”  
“Whatcha doing there bud, so close to the fire?”  
“I don’t know, it feels nice and warm I guess.”  
Wilbur then picked up his guitar, and continued with the song he had been practicing before. Phil studied him with a watchful eye, for it wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed Wilbur have a strange fascination with fire. And not just fire, but destruction in general. He remembered, a few years ago, he had purchased some TNT in order to make a well behind the house. He told Wilbur to stay in the house while he set it off, but his warning hadn't registered with Wilbur. When he set off the TNT, he saw Wilbur standing behind him, eyes containing the same glazed look, and transfixed by the explosion. It concerned Phil, to see that Wilbur was so drawn to explosions, hoping one day it wouldn’t lead to something serious.  
By now the sun had been set for hours, and the house got colder and colder with every hour. The fire had dwindled to a low spark, and all three felt the lull of sleep.  
“Hey, I think it's time the sleepy boys go to bed,” Phil said, followed by a great yawn.  
Neither of the boys protested, and each retreated to their own rooms. Phil followed both the boys upstairs, and said goodnight to Techno. Before heading to his own room, he stopped in the doorway of Wilbur’s.  
Phil realized as soon as he took a look in Wilbur’s room how long it had been since he actually stepped inside of it. He had piles of books, some stacked almost to the ceiling, cluttered throughout his room. Although, he couldn’t blame him, for Phil had been quite the avid reader when he was Wilbur’s age. His desk, cluttered with sheet music and drawings, was tucked away in a corner next to his bed. Compared to the rest of the house, his room was oddly warm, and was inviting, despite his immense clutter. Phil looked at a book at his feet named The Enchanting Essentials; Volume 1 and smiled. It was a book that he read as a kid, hoping one day to get his own set of enchanted tools.  
“Dad?” Wilbur stared at the door from his bed and saw his dad’s feet by the base of the door frame.  
“Hey Will! Wow, I haven’t been in your room in awhile, it looks a lot different! Where did you get all the books? I know there's more in here than there was last time.”  
Wilbur jumped off his bed and walked over to his dad. “I found them in the attic. I hope you don’t mind me reading them.”  
“Oh no! Not at all! Some of these books I read when I was your age.” He picked up The Enchanting Essentials and paged through it, reminiscing about reading it.  
“So, uh, Dad, do you need anything?” Wilbur said, hinting at the fact that he wanted to go to bed.  
“Yeah, bud, actually there is something I wanted to ask you about. What do you think about Techno starting sparring? Do you think he’s ready? I’d love for you to have a sparring partner around your age.”  
“Oh! I was just gonna ask you about that! I was asking Techno about it, and he seemed like he wanted to do it. I think he’s ready,” said Wilbur, a smile growing on his face. “And I mean, I love sparring with you dad, but I know you go easy on me. I wanna have a true partner!”  
“Alright, alright. I’ll think about it. You better get some sl-”  
A large wind moved through the air, and rattled the house as it snaked throughout the land. The house seemed to breathe with the wind, as if it were alive itself. Wind was common on the flat meadow, especially during the brisk fall. Wilbur cracked a small smile on his face, and looked out his window as the big oak tree limbs swayed in the wind.  
He sighed, and said “Dont’cha just love the wind, Dad? The way it flows and makes everything move with it?” He smiled even bigger “Sometimes I wish it was windy all the time.”  
Phil just smiled in return, watching Wilbur watch the wind from his window. He knew Wilbur loved the wind, and had loved it ever since he was young. He remembered when it was just him and Wilbur, before Technoblade. They would sit under the big oak, and let the wind tussle their hair and caress their faces. Sometimes, Phil longed for the simplicity of those days, yet he knew what he had now, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.  
“Well, anyways, you better get to bed, Will. I’d hate for you to be tired for your sparring partner tomorrow.”  
“So you’ll really let us spar tomorrow?” Wilbur replied excitedly  
“Well, we’ll see. Now get to bed sleepy boy!”  
Phil walked out of Wilbur’s room, but stopped in the doorway when he remembered. He had been trying to avoid this question for too long, and it was the real reason he ventured into Wilbur’s room tonight.  
“Hey Wil?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Why do you like the fire so much?”  
Wilbur stayed quiet for a minute, so quiet that Phil thought he fell asleep. But then, he replied with a simple,  
“I don’t know.”  
Phil waited a moment more, and Wilbur continued,  
“Sometimes, it just kinda catches my eyes, and I can’t look away. I don’t know Dad.” Fear started to rise in his small voice, which only fueled Phil’s concern.  
“Hey, no need to worry. You know, sometimes when I see a pretty lady, I go into a trance too!” Wilbur chuckled at that, and Phil felt at ease again.  
He said a final goodnight to Wilbur, and headed off into his own room. And although his body was physically tired, his mind was wide awake. He rummaged through his closet and pulled out two rusty iron swords. He took out some polishing cream, and polished the swords until they gleamed with his reflection. He took a knife, and on the wooden handle, he carved “Wilbur” on one and “Technoblade” on the other. Wilbur would finally have a sparring partner.


End file.
